This was the most realistic version of Nethack. The dungeon was well lit, the walls were freshly scrubbed and shone white like the inside of Hitler's bunker. I was after the Amulet of Yendor and the path led through a puzzle room. Chained to a wall was a black dragon, these beasts are famous in Nethack for breathing a disintegration blast. Somehow I had to find the right tiles, unreachable and unhittable by the dragon's breath, to cross the room then tempt fate by having the dragon's breath destroy the door so I could face the Wizard of Yendor and retrieve the amulet.
Fortunately there was an easier way and I got to avoid the puzzle. In fact, part of the shortcut killed the dragon and turned its breath weapon against itself leaving a smoking, black skeleton on the floor.

Before me was an eight foot by eight foot structure with a bamboo frame covered with a tattered brown material that was impervious to everything. There were many holes, lots of points where I could reach through but a force kept me from success. Laying inside was an ancient, horrible mummy that was the remains of the Wizard of Yendor. Somehow my presence made the situation more dire, any false move would awaken him and send him crashing through his seemingly feeble crypt to exact revenge upon me. I was thinking too much rather than acting which led to the awakening. He chased me through the institutional hallways, linen and bandages streaming behind him like action lines in a cartoon. A low, coughing growl from his rotted wound of a mouth as he got within grasping distance of me. With seconds to spare, I escaped from the dungeon without my quarry.

Above ground, I was on a deserted highway near the shore. Overhead the sky was dark with rain growing progressively more menacing towards the unseen horizon. I was in Louisiana, long scoured of life by Hurricane Katrina. Following the sound of the crashing surf, I wandered over a few dunes and found a red beachhouse standing on stilts near the beach. The thought entered my mind, "Jaybird's place!"
Jaybird's shore house was like the Tardis, larger on the inside than on the outside. A large courtyard commanded attention in the center of the house. A white monolith stood in the center, The Tomb of the Unknown Father. Jaybird walked from behind the stone wiping dirt off his hands. "I'm the new caretaker" he beamed with pride.

We weren't alone, two of his roommates were camwhores and there was no mention at all of maribou. One of them I recognized from camwhores.com, the other one I only saw that she had enormous feet. Her clodhoppers would put sasquatch to shame. For most of the dream she was unseen, hiding under Jaybird's covers. Jaybird decided to shoot his big mouth off and said, "Hey, you know what spivak really hates?" His roommates started to do very irritating things to me. The torture was cut short when I discovered one of the pitfalls of owning a beach house. Twice a day, every day, Jaybird has to go outside and turn the house on its foundation because the house sits on railroad tracks. If the house isn't turned, there's a huge accident with lots of dead people. When Jaybird turns the house, the train passes through, mere inches from the tomb, without any danger.

It's important to note that there was a running motif in my dream. A single goal that kept hounding me like Simon Wiesenthal. Somewhere on the internet is a website that requires me to enter my personal statistics but using unusual measurements. For example, I had to discern the time it takes for light to travel six feet and two inches and input that as my height based on c. My weight needed to be calculated in solar masses and considering my girth this remained no mean feat for I'm a lightweight compared to most stars. Every spare moment that wasn't spent interacting in my dream was filled with animated equations and formulae meant to facilitate the calculations. With the approach of morning my sleep became more and more restless, I'd break the surface of wakefulness only to be dragged back down into the sea of dark numbers.